The Aftermath
by PhaetonLane
Summary: Wade spoke his mind to Zoe at the bachelor/bachelorette parties, and now she finally has her say.


This is something short, but I had to get it down on paper. In "Sweetie Pies and Sweaty Palms," I thought that betting that Judson and Zoe would break up was the most humiliating thing Wade had ever done to her. And I wanted Zoe to call him out on that in some way. Given what happened in "Bullets and Bachelorettes," I gave her that chance in my story.

(These characters don't belong to me and never will.)

The Aftermath

"Mornin', Lavon," Wade said as he entered the mayor's back door.

"Mornin,'" Lavon replied. He saw Wade's eyes roam the kitchen. "She's not here."

"Who?" Wade said, avoiding Lavon's eyes.

"You know who."

"Well, just wondering. I haven't seen her all week."

"You mean since you insulted her."

"I did not insult her," Wade said, his jaw tight as he poured some cereal into a bowl.

"I was there, Wade. Heard the whole thing." Lavon shook his head. "Those were some harsh words, man. Mighty harsh. Can you blame Zoe for avoiding you?"

"Is that what she's doin'?" He looked down at his bowl.

"You honestly think she's a snob? And selfish?"

"Yes . . . , yes I do," Wade said, recalling the very last thing he said to Zoe. "Look at who she's attracted to. A vet. A lawyer. My brother, whatever he does. Doesn't that tell you somethin'? She's only interested in guys who have prospects . . . money."

"You think she's not interested in you 'cause you're a bartender? Sorry, man. I disagree," said Lavon, shaking his head again. "I think being a bartender bothers _you_, not Zoe. And I've never seen her act snobbish to anyone, not to Tom, Didi, Addie, nobody."

Wade continued his defiant tone. "Well, I've tried to be nice to her—made the gumbo for her, helped her find that snake, countless other stuff, but what do I get? Nothin' but rejection."

"Because you act like a fifth-grader in front of her, teasin' her and all. I've told you all this before. Look at how you behave toward her, how you behave period." Lavon waved him away. "You're gonna have to figure it out for yourself, man."

"And who are you to teach me about how to act in a relationship, huh?" Wade said, unable to control his hurt. "Look at your screwed-up self."

Lavon closed his eyes for a moment, and his pain came oozing back. "You're right. My life is a mess—mostly my doing. I'm not proud of it. But at least I've admitted what I did wrong."

Wade sat silent. Admitting mistakes—a grown-up behavior he couldn't seem to master. "Well, I guess we all have our faults."

At the Rammer Jammer later that day, Wade's thoughts circled around his last words to Zoe. Lavon was right, he had to admit. Wade knew he sometimes made the world's worst choices, mostly because he believed they led to consequences he could live with. But he was starting to realize those choices meant something, especially when compared with those of others. He needed a healthy dose of self-respect. And there was no place to find it except within.

Zoe locked the office door and walked straight home from the grocery, as she did every day this week. The bachelorette party—and the immediate aftermath—had created too much drama, and she needed time away from everyone. With George and Lemon trying to salvage their relationship, and Jesse gone, she had only her patients to think about—and Wade. She sighed. His words that last night struck tiny blows to her heart, then and every day since. _Snobbish? Selfish? Superior?_ She couldn't think why he said those things to her. All week, she questioned her attitude. _OK, maybe I came to Bluebell with a feeling of superiority, but I think I've grown to accept people here for who they are. Even Brick seems to realize that._

But Wade . . . He brought out the adolescent in her. He teased her mercilessly, and, given her competitive nature, she often tried to play his game. But nothing positive ever came from that, and she knew better. She saw his caring side, especially when it came to his dad. Zoe had thought she and Wade made a connection at Christmas, but it had faded with time. And he had brought around too many women since then, which angered and insulted her. The night of the party, the shock of Wade's anger prevented Zoe from defending herself. Throughout the week, though, she thought about what she'd say to him if she had the chance. But she also wondered whether it was worth the effort.

His shift over at five, Wade drove toward the carriage house. Up ahead—on high heels and carrying a heavy grocery bag—was Zoe. He slowed and cranked the window down on the passenger side. "Need a lift? Looks like you got a lotta stuff there," he called to her.

Zoe saw the color of the car and immediately knew who was following her. She half-turned to the window but kept walking. "Yes, I'm starting to cook a little more. Staying home more. Trying to keep a low profile."

"Well, get in. I'm heading home, too."

"Please don't try to be sweet to me. I know how you really feel." She moved away from the car and walked faster.

"C'mon, Doc, we're neighbors," Wade shouted to her. He stopped for a few seconds. Then he sped up and parked the car a few feet ahead of her. He jumped out and grabbed the grocery bag from her arms. "Damn it, Zoe. Get in the car," he said, thrusting his arm out and pointing to the vehicle. "I'm trying to be nice." His voice shook as he cried out the words.

"This is you trying to be nice? You've got on the same mad face that you had the last time I saw you!"

He sighed and turned away from her, then turned back. "I . . . I need to talk to you and . . . I just don't know how. I've been so mad lately—"

"At who? Me? Maybe you're really mad at yourself."

Wade sighed again, knowing in part she was right. "Zoe, you've got me all . . . frustrated . . . and . . . confused." He paused and then said, "_Please_ get in the car?"

Zoe stared at him for a few moments. She hadn't laid eyes on him in more than a week, and he looked better than he had a right to, she thought. She wanted to protect herself, but she was also curious to hear what he had to say. Maybe she finally had her chance to say what was on her mind. "All right. Thank you."

They were quiet for several seconds. Then Wade said, "So, how was your day?"

Zoe looked at him for a second, wondering what tack he was taking now. "It was fine. Justine White is now five-months along, and she came in for a checkup today. Everything seems to be going well."

"That's good to hear. Her husband, Travis, is a nice guy. Gave me some fishin' tips awhile back."

Another minute later, they arrived at Zoe's house. "I've got your bag," Wade said, reaching behind the backseat for her groceries. He walked her to the door. "Zoe, can I come in for a little while? I need to talk to you."

"I don't know, Wade." She took the bag and raised her eyes to his. "I don't want to hear your angry words anymore. They cut deep the last time."

He looked down at the porch steps. "I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can say some things different-like."

Zoe narrowed her eyes and searched for strength. "You know, Wade, I've heard your version. I want you to hear mine." She dropped the bag and said in a calm, steady voice, "I wasn't interested in Judson or George or Jesse 'cause of what they do for a living. I was interested in them 'cause they treat me with respect. They're fun, and they talk to me without resorting to pranks."

Wade stuttered and looked down again.

"They don't humiliate me by betting that I'll break up with someone at the end of the night. They don't tease me about being a city girl. They don't put an opossum in my bathroom."

"It's called a possum," he blurted.

"See? Who cares? And another thing," she said, her voice rising a bit. "They don't drag their latest sexual flavor in front of me to get me interested—because they don't have to."

"But I don't know how to get you to notice me, Zoe. You don't even look at me—"

"Because you look at _me_ like the next conquest. I have too much self-respect to be treated that way. Don't _you_ have any self-respect?"

_That word again_, he thought. He sank to one of the porch steps and sighed. "I guess not. Funny, I was thinkin' about that today." He leaned his head on the post. "My grandma always said 'You are the choices you make.' And, yeah, I've made some lousy ones. I didn't think they made a difference one way or the other. Now . . . I'm startin' to see otherwise. And I've been angry with myself because of it."

"You should listen to your grandmother," Zoe said, standing near him. "People can change, you know. Your past doesn't have to define you. I think you're capable of being a better man, Wade."

"Really?" He looked up at her. "I meant what I said that night when you and Judson broke up. I do like you . . . a lot. And I am sorry about the way I've treated you. It's just . . . I guess I never met a woman like you before. You're kinda scary."

Zoe smiled. "Well, I don't bite."

He put his hand through his hair. "Look, can we . . . start over? Be friends, maybe. See what happens?"

Zoe hesitated for a moment. He looked sincere, she thought. She wanted to trust him, but she just didn't want to hurt again. "OK. Friends."

"Thanks, Zoe." He smiled at her and stepped off the porch to his car. "See ya'."

Zoe grabbed her grocery bag and thought for a moment. "Hey," she called to him. "Want to come in for dinner? I've learned how to sauté chicken."

Wade smiled at her again. "Sure." He came around the car and walked through her open doorway.


End file.
